Meetings of a surreal nature
by Randomthoughts33
Summary: David Cameron has just been made Prime Minister. Little does he know that he will soon have a very important visitor.... crap summary I know. My first fic please be nice!


David Cameron sat down in the plush office chair in his office at Downing Street. Finally, he had achieved what he had been aiming for ever since he became the leader of the Conservative party, and, if he thought back far enough, ever since he was young. He was Prime Minister of Britain, the youngest Prime Minster for almost 200 years; at 43 years old, he was the most powerful man in the country. He smiled a little at that. He had done it, even if it was perhaps not quite in the way he would have liked.

The campaign he had just been through had been a long and arduous one: the TV debates, the frequent journeys up and down the country had taken their toll on him. Not to mention the days of uncertainty that had followed, and the countless phone calls he had made and received during the coalition talks, in the wake of the inconclusive election result. But, after weeks of waiting for this moment, he had finally become Prime Minister, even if his government was a coalition with Nick Clegg and his Liberal Democrats. Of course, he would have loved to have got a Conservative majority, but then again, sometimes the things you wish for just don't happen. Of course there would be lots of work to be done, and most of it would have to be done as soon as possible, but right now all the new Prime Minister of Britain wanted to do was to relax, and savour this victory.

Just as he was taking a sip from his glass of the delightful wine the staff at 10 Downing Street had supplied him with, soft cough echoed round the room. Suddenly alert now, he sat up looking round the room nervously. "Samantha?" he called, wondering if his wife had come in to the office. But he could see no-one. 'I must be imagining things,' he thought to himself, and went back to sipping his glass of wine

Barely two seconds later, the cough had sounded again, louder this time. The Prime Minister got out of his chair, and walked around the room, and shut the window, thinking that the sound had come from outside. Through the dark, he could still make out the many journalists that huddled in one great mass of people metres away from the entry to the house. Obviously, the sensation of this election wasn't going away anytime soon.

"Ahem!" came a shout, which frightened the David Cameron so much, he nearly fell over.

"Daniel? Martha, I mean Mary? Edward?" he called, trying hard to memorise the names of the various civil servants that now worked for him, wondering if it was someone outside the door who had been trying to get his attention. But surely, they would all be at home now, having settled in, an anyway, it seemed that he cough had come from _inside_ the room.

Whirling around, he suddenly came face to face with a rather ugly looking painting that he hadn't really taken much notice of before, as it was in the corner of the spacious office. It was of a little man who looked like a caricature drawn to resemble a frog, with a long silver wig. It didn't look particularly interesting, but then, it d something to draw his attention, and hold it. The painting moved, and then started talking.

"To the Prime Minister of muggles," he announced in a whiny, nasally voice. "The Minister of Magic will shortly be arriving in your office to meet you."

David Cameron couldn't move. He blinked, and the painting was back to how it had been previously – dark and unmoving that was easily overlooked. He shook his head. "I'm probably hallucinating. Paintings can't _speak_. They can't _move_. Yes, it's all my imagination. It has been a very _very_ long week after all."

He sat down in his chair, behind his empty desk, and nearly fell off his chair when the fireplace in his room flashed bright green, and a slightly familiar looking man dressed in the most ridiculous outfit he had ever seen walked gracefully out of the fireplace, chuckling lightly. He warm, dark brown eyes landed on David Cameron.

"Ah, you must be the new muggle Prime Minister, David Cameron isn't it?" he said, in a low, calm voice.

All the Prime Minister could do was splutter hopelessly, and gape at the events that had transpired in his office. He just about managed to stutter out a weak sounding "What?"

"I am Kingsley Shacklebolt, the Minister for Magic," he said. Silence swirled through the room, as David Cameron desperately tried to gather his wits, and act in the manner of the leader he had just become.

"What do you mean 'Minister for Magic'? Technically, there are no ministers at the moment, and you definitely are not employed by me. I would know if you were. And how on earth did you use my fireplace to get in here? Hold on, are you from MI5?" The Prime Minister said, trying in vain to retain some authority in a situation that was rapidly spiralling out of his control, knowing that he was sounding more anxious by the second.

"No I am not from MI5. In fact, they have actually cause me alot of trouble over the years. I am exactly who I said I was – the Minister for Magic." Kingsley replied in a calm, implacable tone.

"But there's no such thing as magic!" The Prime Minister said, almost crying out with frustration. Who the hell did this guy think he was, screwing with his mind like this? Maybe the reason this man looked familiar was because he was part of the opposition. Was the Labour party that depressed about losing the election that they had sent this guy here to make him have a nervous breakdown and resign? Somehow, he couldn't really visualise this happening. Maybe, there was the tiniest possibility that what he man was saying was actually _true_.

"Well, actually there is," said Kingsley, snapping the Prime Minister out of his reverie. "I take it you are familiar with the witch trials, and stories of those able to do magic – warlocks, witches, and wizards, yes?" David Cameron simply nodded, unable to speak at the moment. "Well, they're all true. And they still exist, unknown to the muggle world – muggles are what we call people who can't do magic by the way. I act as the leader of the government of this world – which we call the wizarding world, and make sure that no-one from your world ever finds out about us. Believe me, it's a tough job, especially with all the new innovations you come up with, and people like our MI5 always investigating when something goes wrong, which happens more frequently than you can imagine."

The Prime Minister just looked on in shock. He still didn't know whether to believe him or not. "Have you told the other Prime Ministers about you're world?" he managed to get out, after a few minutes of silence.

"Oh yes. It's protocol for the Minister of Magic of the day to visit the leader of the muggle world."

"Then why didn't anyone _tell_ me about this? About you and your world?" said the Prime Minister indignantly. "Why didn't Gordon tell me about you, and the fact that I would be getting a visit from you as soon as I became Prime Minister?"

"It's the best way to keep our world hidden. We have a rule only to reveal ourselves to the muggle Prime Minister of the day. As for warning you, are you honestly going to tell anyone about this?" This made the Prime Minster think, and come to the conclusion that he would never tell anyone about this. Not even his wife. And especially not Nick Clegg. If he ever had to find out about this, he would find out about this the hard way, like him.

Again, Kingsley's voice interrupted his thoughts. "I must say you're taking this a lot better than Gordon Brown, the last Prime Minister I met. He went crazy, thinking I was some sort of trick created by Tony Blair, who wanted him to have a mental breakdown so that he would come and reclaim the leadership. He actually tried to through me out of the window. I actually had to stun him!" he said, smiling faintly as though recalling a fond memory. "He turned out to be a lovely guy in the end, if a bit stressed with everything going on in you world," again smiling at an indistinguishable memory.

"Don't worry; I won't bother you about anything unless it's something big from our world that is going to affect your world in some way, like the transport of dangerous animals, or the Quidditch World Cup, or something along those lines. You'll probably go for years without seeing me, which has been the case in recent years." David Cameron, wisely, remained silent.

"Anyway, I'd best be off. I have an important meeting in an hour with the Minister of Brazil, and I'm sure that you also have lots to do. It was very nice meeting you David Cameron." He said, as he stuck his hand out. The Prime Minister, not forgetting his manners cultivated through his years at Eton and Oxford, got up, and shook it, if a bit shakily.

As the man walked back to the fireplace, David Cameron suddenly remembered why the man seemed so familiar. He had seen him before – in 1996 when he had first stood as a candidate for a constituency. "I remember you!" he said, almost triumphantly, stopping the man in his tracks. "Yes, you were an aide of John Major's, back in 1996."

Kingsley's eyes seemed to grow darker, and his expression turned into a frown. "Ah yes, I was. That was back before I was Minister for Magic. Those were dark times, when Voldemort was on the rise, and it was effecting even your world."

"Voldemort?" enquired David Cameron hesitantly after a few moments of silence. He wasn't sure if he actually wanted to know about this person, especially due to the change in the countenance of the man who had seemed so warm and friendly just seconds ago.

"Yes. He was a Dark wizard, gaining a lot of power 14 years ago. Many of the things he affected your world dreadfully. Those were terrible times. Everything seemed to be going wrong – people dying all over the place," the tone of Kingsley's voice was bitter, and mirthless – completely different to how he had been speaking mere moments before.

"He's not still around is he?" asked David Cameron.

"Oh no," said Kingsley, his voice warm once again. "Harry Potter took care of that, thank goodness. No, none of us will ever have to worry about him again. Anyway, I really must go. Again, it has been a pleasure."

"Likewise," said David Cameron, as he watched the man step into the fireplace, take a handful of green powder from inside the cloak he was wearing, and disappeared in a wreath of green flame.

David Cameron didn't know how long he spent looking dumbly at the fireplace after the Minister had left. Even when he went to bed, he still didn't feel normal. "It's been a long day hasn't it?" said his wife as they got ready for bed.

"You have no idea,"


End file.
